Yellow Rose, Signature
by NeoFio
Summary: Gilbert felt sick when he heard the words seep through his friend’s pale, pink lips. There was no way that Matthew...Innocent, little Matthew...Could possibly be a prostitute. But no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he knew, deep down, it was true.
1. Prelude

_Gilbert held the trembling blond in his arms, warm tears seeping through his sweater. The boy just laid there in his embrace, frame shaking, slender arms wrapped around the Prussian's larger torso, sobbing into his shoulder. The albino gently petted his friend, whispering comforting things into his ear._

"_It's alright…The man's gone, you don't have to worry about him anymore…"  
Matthew just looked up at his friend, eyes starting to become red and puffy, the inside of his glasses covered in fresh tears as more ran down his pale cheeks, collecting at his chin before falling to the floor. He shook his head and let out a small hiccough as he rested his head on the other's shoulders once more, his sobs starting to decrease in number as he calmed himself down._

_Rubbing the younger one's back, he rested his head on soft, blond locks of hair as he squeezed Matthew tightly in his arms. The blond felt a sense of protection as he melted into the older man's arms. His sobs had finally ceased, and he himself had managed to regain some sense of composure. Gilbert moved his head closer to his ear and Matthew felt his warm breath as the Prussian whispered…_

"_What did that man mean…when he said that he had already paid for you?"_

_Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to tell his friend the answer, although he felt that the albino already had a hunch as to what that answer was._

"_T-that's what people do…when you're….a whore…Like me…"_

_Gilbert almost felt sick when he heard the words seep bitterly through his friend's pale, pink lips. There was no way that Matthew...Innocent, young little Matthew...Could possibly be a prostitute._

_But...No matter how much he wanted to deny the fact, he knew, deep down, that it was true. _

_And it made him angry. That there was someone out there, selling the Canadian's body for money. Someone sick and twisted, that felt that they could make a living off of selling a poor teenager to a bunch of strangers. Gilbert grinded his teeth together in frustration, making sure not to crush the petite blond in his arms as his anger swelled._

"_Tell me, Matthew...Who is it?"_

"_W-who is what?" Matthew looked up at Gilbert, false confusion written on his tear-stained face._

"_Who is forcing you to...to whore yourself out to these...sickos?"_

_Matthew felt his breath hitch in his throat. Should he tell him? He simply frowned and released the other man before turning his back to him. He stared at his feet, and whispered in a soft, almost non-existent voice..._

"_Francis Bonnefoy, the dean of St. Christina's academy...and also..."_

_Matthew felt tears threatening to fall from his eyes once more, and wiped them away with the sleeve of his sweater._

"_M-m...my...father."_

* * *

I know that this chapter is short, but fear not! For it is merely a prelude to what shall later come.

I should hopefully have the first chapter up by maybe...I wanna say Teusday? It may be Monday. It may be Wednesday. Just be patient with me, alrighty?

As always, constructive critism is always wanted, welcome, and encouraged. Falmes are also welcomed with open arms as well.

So...Review, kay?


	2. Je T'aime, Mathieu

_Sorry this took so long to get up. Finals are a bitch, and gave me writer's block. Blech. But, it's up now, so don't complain! :D_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia. Still._

Dorm room 115 was silent. In fact, it would seem almost empty if it wasn't for the large lump in the middle of the dorm's single full-sized mattress. A head of silvery, white hair could be seen sticking out of the gray and black tartan bed sheets; they were very messy and unkempt, sticking out in all directions. The head moved out from underneath the warm comfort zone that was the blanket, and looked over the clock. _6:15_ The neon green numbers looked a little fuzzy through sleep ridden eyes, but there was no mistaking it. With a large sigh, Gilbert got up from his bed, rubbing the sleep out of the piercing red orbs in his head. He let out a long, rather large yawn, similar to a lion's, and got out of bed.

He had just spent his first night in his new dorm, at his new school, and it certainly felt different than sleeping in the comfort of his own bedroom. The new surroundings bothered him. He just figured it would take some getting used to, though. After all, he would spending a great deal of his time in this room for the next year, so he might as well get used to living in the strange new environment.

Yes, the Prussian boy had recently moved schools; to a boarding school, in fact. The name of the foreign school was "St. Christina's," and he was thankful that, despite its name, it was a school with no religious affiliation. He had transferred to the school because of his parent's wishes. They hoped that the school would be stricter than his old school with punishment, seeing as how Gilbert had a pretty bad tendency to get into fights. It wasn't as if he went around looking for them, though. More like they ended up finding him. It wasn't _his_ fault that he was so awesome, that some people couldn't help but get jealous of him. Oh well, though. The damage was done, and there was nothing he could do about it now but hope that this school wouldn't be full of stuck up teenagers. Thankfully, there wasn't a set uniform at the school; merely a dress code that was a little stricter than most schools. He could deal with that, though, seeing as how he wasn't much of an outlandish dresser anyways.

After showering, brushing his teeth, and putting on a few articles of clothing he picked out of his closet, he was all ready and set for his first day of...school. Something he wasn't excited for. But, the school deserved to be basked in his awesomeness, and who was he to deny them that right? Smiling to himself, he grabbed the keys to his dorm and checked the clock- 6:45. School started at 8:00, so he had some time to find a couple of his classes and get some breakfast, seeing as how his stomach was grumbling angrily at him. He picked up his bag and walked out the door, in the empty, silent hallways. The walls had a somewhat copper colored wallpaper plastered on their smooth surface, and the carpet was a deep red color, without a pattern. He felt almost as if he was standing in the hallway of a hotel, except without electronic locks on all the doors. He just started walking down the empty hallway, having memorized the location of the cafeteria the day before.

After about 10 minutes of walking through the eerily quiet halls ("_almost...too quiet" _Gilbert had thought to himself with a smirk), he started to day dream as he walked, thinking of how everyone would fawn over him, entranced by his aura of awesomeness. He was snapped out of these thoughts, however, when he felt something light hit his chest, almost as if a newspaper had flown into him in the wind. However, just like that, the feeling was gone. He looked around, and after seeing nothing, looked down. Piercing red eyes met deep, glistening cerulean ones. They were attached to a pale face, the only color being the slight red tint on his cheeks. Wavy blond locks of hair lay limp on soft, pale skin, except for one odd curl that stuck straight out. A rather odd sight, but it all added to the appeal of the rather lithe boy in front of him. Gilbert would have almost mistaken him for a girl, due to his slightly feminine appearance, if it wasn't for the fact that he lacked breasts. That could have also meant that it was a flat-chested girl, as well, but the albino was almost certain that it was a boy. Snapping out of his trance, he reached a hand out to the boy lying in front of him on the floor, an apologetic look on his face.

"Hehehe, sorry about that. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going. You okay?"

The boy on the floor grabbed Gilbert's hand in his own, which was wrapped in the sleeve of his red hoodie. The taller male pulled him up with a smile, but the blond said nothing. He merely nodded his head, validating the Prussian's presence, but walked away without saying a word, eyes transfixed on the red carpeting beneath his canvas tennis shoes.

Watching the boy walk away, Gilbert merely shrugged his shoulders and continued to walk to the cafeteria. The least the boy could've done was thank him for helping him up. I mean, okay, so it was his fault to begin with, but that's no excuse to be impolite! He merely shrugged the thought off and continued to walk down the now once again empty corridor.

[x]-[o]-[x]

A small sigh could be heard from underneath a large, red comforter. He knew he had to wake up, to get ready for school, to get ready for...later...But as much as he knew what he needed to do, his body wouldn't let him. His legs and arms screamed in protest as he tried to move them, sore after last night's...activities. A small frown made its way onto soft, pink lips as the Canadian remembered the events of the previous night, something he had wanted to shove into the back of his head so he could make his way through the day like a normal student. At least, as normal a student as he could manage.

After a mental battle with his body, his limbs had finally given in to their master's will, and moved from under the covers, greeted with the cold, winter air in his dorm. Yawning, he got up and stretched a little. He still felt a little...dirty, if that was the proper word for his situation. He begrudgingly went to his bathroom, having already been naked from last night, and slid himself into the shower. He sighed as the warm waters cascaded over his narrow shoulders, sliding down his slender frame until meeting the hard tile on the floor and slipping inconspicuously down the drain.

Once he had finished relaxing and cleansing himself, he turned off the shower, already missing the feeling of the warm spray on his face and chest. He wrapped himself in his nice, fluffy towel and moved towards the sink. He picked up his washcloth and rubbed the steam off of the glass surface of his mirror, his gaze meeting his own reflection. He stared into his own eyes for a little while, before scoping himself out further. His hair was matted down from his shower, except for the one stubborn curl that always stuck up, no matter what. He looked a little tired, but nothing that couldn't be cured by the caffeine in a cup of coffee. He dried himself off before slipping into whatever pair of pants, under wear, and random T-Shirt he could find. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and slipped into his signature red sweater before setting out of his dorm, prepped and ready for another day of his life.

He smiled to himself, not quite a happy smile, but more of a cynical, sarcastic smile. He reflected upon his life, thinking about everything from when he was a mere infant, to just a couple weeks ago as he stood alone in the empty hallway. His thoughts suddenly entered a state of evanescence though, as he slowly brought himself back to reality. He slowly walked down the halls, not really paying much heed as to where he was going, as much as just going through the motions. It would seem as if he had some place to be, but was just taking his time. It was less suspicious that way; not that anyone paid much attention to the seemingly transparent blond anyways. It was almost as if he was invisible; people having run him over many a time without even noticing his presence, much less apologizing. He simply brushed the sullen thoughts from his mind as if they were a thin layer of dust on his shoes and continued to march down the halls in silence.

He didn't even notice the larger, gray haired man walking towards him. His eyes were transfixed onto the ground, watching the red carpeting glide underneath his feet like a piece of moving scenery. He only noticed the other man's presence when he found himself on the floor, confused as to how he had gotten there. He looked up. Red eyes were looking into his indigo ones. No, almost as if they were looking _through_ him, rather than at him.

Before he knew it, the man had already reached out a hand. He was taken aback by the seemingly foreign action, seeing as how it was something anyone rarely (or ever) did for him. He simply grabbed the outstretched limb, feeling his own cheeks warm up as he was hoisted to his feet. He thought he had heard something of an apology, but he simply ignored it and stalked off into the halls once more, eyes glued back to their usual spot on the carpet.

He was embarrassed. Not so much at having bumped into the other, but more because of the fact that he was _noticed_ by the other. He'd heard of some teenagers always wanting to be noticed, to be paid attention to. The blond didn't understand it at all. He quite enjoyed being invisible to his peers, all it meant was fewer embarrassing moments of interaction with other people. All it did was make life easier for him, being invisible.

He reached into his pocket as he felt his cell phone vibrate. He hadn't even checked it, and yet he already knew what the 1 unread text message in his inbox said. They always said the same thing, seeing as no one else besides _him_ ever bothered to call him. He flipped open his phone, listening to the quiet (or rather, loud, compared to the silence of the halls) jingle of the bell on his cell phone charm.

_1 New Text Message_

Click.

_Francis Bonnefoy: Bon Matin, mon..._

Click.

_[6:52:43 AM] "Bon Matin, mon fils! Guess what? You have an appointment at 9:00 today with Kirkland. You know what to do." End Message._

Click.

Matthew shut his phone, a frown now plastered on the young boy's face. He knew Arthur Kirkland quite well; He was his father's close, _personal_ friend, as well as one of Francis' regular customers. His father always told him that Arthur said that out off all the other's the Canadian was his favorite. Something that, on the exterior, would make many people happy, knowing that they were someone's favorite. However, deep down in the subtext of the seemingly shallow sentence, he knew the true meaning behind the seemingly innocent words. It wasn't that the Englishman liked him, as much as his...

Body...

He felt his phone vibrate once again in his pants pocket, and he flipped it open, clicking the buttons necessary to read the text message. Reading it, the slender boy's frown only deepened as he was reminded of the fact...

_[6:54:39 AM] "And remember, Je T'aime, mon petit Mathieu." End Message._


End file.
